


A Visit

by im_the_king_of_the_ocean



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Imprisonment, M/M, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27455848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_the_king_of_the_ocean/pseuds/im_the_king_of_the_ocean
Summary: Martin interrupted Jon before he could finish Jonah's statement, but not without consequences, and Beholding's grip on Jon tightens significantly.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 93





	A Visit

Water drips.From what direction, it’s impossible to tell.The quiet _plop, plop_ echoes all around the damp, stone corridor.Even if he wanted to, Martin doubts he’d be able to find the culpable pipe.The moisture down here is too pervasive.There’s too many twisting pipes to choose from.There’s not enough time.

Excuses, he knows, but what’s not an excuse these days?

Martin sighs and continues on to his destination.His footsteps add their own musical notes to the despondent orchestra going on around him until he stops in front of the nondescript door.He raises his lantern to cast dull light on the sigils drawn in chalk all across its surface.Martin takes a scrap of paper out of his pocket.He doesn’t need to.He’s long since memorized the shape of the sigils, but the action of looking at the cheat sheet lets him have slightly more time before he needs to go in. 

The process of ensuring nothing otherworldly has gained the ability to See into the cell since Martin’s last visit doesn’t last long enough in his opinion.Less than a minute and he’s already reaching for the key he never takes off his person.Martin takes a deep breath to center himself, and then inserts it into the heavy lock and turns.

The door opens with the simplest of clicks.The room beyond is as far a cry from the corridor leading to it as it can be.The floor is covered with a thick, warm carpet.There’s a bed, a mattress in good condition, and an assortment of comfortable-looking blankets.Against one wall is a set of bookshelves filled with tomes in Braille, the collection of which, hadn’t been a simple task.A strong, UV lightbulb keeps the shadows in the corners of the room at bay.

Sitting on the bed, the Archivist has his head turned in Martin’s direction, as if he’d been listening to the unlocking process.He doesn’t make any sort of greeting.Not that he can, with his eyes blindfolded and his mouth gagged.Precautions Martin hates, but keeps the powers of the Eye at bay.

“Hi, Jon.”Martin can’t bring his voice above a whisper.“I brought you some tea.”He approaches the Archivist, who remains completely still, but attentive to his every movement.Martin puts a thermos, along with a bag of food, down on the table next to the bed.He checks the bindings on the Archivist’s wrists.Halfway between bracelet and shackle, they’re an old relic acquired from Salesa that keep the Archivist from taking off his blindfold or his gag.

Martin sits on the bed, hesitates, and then reaches over and unties the gag himself.He places it aside, but in reach.The Archivist hasn’t tried to Compel him yet, but that could always change.Martin is relieved when the Archivist doesn’t immediately speak.It’s becoming increasingly harder to listen to his voice since…

* * *

_I need you to do this, Martin.I…I don’t know how much longer I’ll be_ me _._

_No.I—I thought it didn’t care if you remained you or not—_

_That was before.It’s..._ I’m _hungry.Starving.Impatient.You interrupted before I could finish Elias’s statement, but it Knows.It—I want to finish, Martin.We can’t let that happen.Please.”_

* * *

Martin dismisses the memory.

Tea is poured and offered.

The Archivist doesn’t take it.“I’m not hungry for _that,_ ” he mutters in a rasping voice.

“Well, it’s what you’re getting.”Martin huffs.“Cause it’s your favorite, Jon.”He holds the tea out until the Archivist obliges him, takes it, and sips.

“Are you afraid to die?”Now that his throat is less dry, the Archivist sounds more like he used to, like Jon.“A rational fear, of course, if an unnecessary one.I will protect you.In the new world of my patron, I will have more powerful than you can imagine.So long as you’re by my side, nothing will dare harm you, my love.”

“Don’t call me that.”Martin means to take on a reprimanding tone, but there’s no force behind his words.

The Archivist chuckles.“Why not?It’s the truth.I may have changed, but my love for you has certainly not.”He takes another sip of tea.“You keep these visits.You don’t kill me like the others insist.You call me by my name.Why keep up this little charade.Why not admit what we both know is in your heart?”

“I love _Jon_.”Martin glares, though he knows the Archivist can’t see him.“Deep down, I know he’s still somewhere inside of you.I’m _not_ giving up on him.”He stands.“And I don’t think he’s given up either.”

The Archivist sighs dramatically.“I _am_ Jon.The fact that you refuse to believe the truth of that fact is naught more than your own denial.”


End file.
